“If it’s us…” he said slowly. “Then…. then we have a problem. It shouldn’t be this way. We shouldn’t be this way, really not”

Yochi tapped Eli T. on the shoulder on their way out from Minchah.

“How’s it going?”

T. flashed a thumbs up. “Great! Working our way through my list. We’ll get there, b’ezras Hashem. It’ll be okay, Yochi, really. You can relax.”

“Yeah,” Yochi muttered. “Uh… so what do you think of Berkowitz?”

They strode through the lobby in the direction of the kitchen. “He’s good,” Eli T. said. He nodded earnestly. “Really good. You found the perfect person. He has a knack for it, and he’s really pleasant to work with. Very hachna’ahdig, know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean. I wasn’t worried about a power struggle, believe me.” He paused as they reached the door to the kitchen. “I can’t shortchange our guests, T. We promised them you. The real deal. This feels so… dishonest.”

“He’s good,” T. repeated. “Trust me. You really have no reason to worry.”

“You’re not just saying this to make me feel better, right?”

“I’m not. I promise.”

Yochi gave a resigned sigh. T. patted his back reassuringly then pushed open the door to the kitchen.

Standing at the entrance, Yochi did relax. The place seemed to be under control. Kitchen staff were stationed around the large room, dicing, shredding, trimming, stirring. Berkowitz stood over a big pot, measuring something, tossing it in. He called out some instructions to a kitchen hand, the guy nodded, Berkowitz made another comment, and they both burst out laughing.

Yochi liked that. Maybe he could believe T. Berkowitz would be all right.